Shelter From The Storm
by Tempest819
Summary: An extension of the bedroom scene from the pilot episode, "See One. Do One. Teach One."


Title: Shelter from the Storm  
Fandom: Rizzoli and Isles  
Pairing: Jane/Maura  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a Honda Civic. The characters below belong to TNT and blah, blah, blah. Don't sue me.  
Synopsis: An extension of the bedroom scene in the Pilot.

"Never been so scared in my whole life."

It was uncharacteristic of Jane to make such an admission. The brunette detective had developed a thick skin over her years on the job. To see the things she had seem, to know the full extent of depravity human beings are capable of would have sent her to the loony bin a long time ago had she not learned how to distance herself from it. But that evening, lying in a bed made with the most divine set of silk sheets she'd ever felt, she sensed her defenses faltering.

She was afraid; too afraid to bear the burden alone. Jane wasn't sure why had chosen this moment to be vulnerable. She had just come from her apartment where both her family and her partners were ready and waiting to be her champions, to stand guard while she removed her armor to let her wounds breathe. While their presence was comforting and their concern heartening, it didn't make her feel safe, not in the way that she needed, and that unfulfilled feeling had led her to the ornate home of Dr. Maura Isles.

It didn't make sense at all. Of all the people in her life, she knew Maura the least and, in terms of physical capability, the petite doctor didn't inspire much confidence. Although she didn't put it past the woman to know some sort of Vulcan-esque, pressure point defense tactic that would allow her to render a person paralyzed with just a few touches. Still, it didn't make sense, and, yet, here she was pulling her heart from her chest and resting it on her sleeve for the doctor to inspect.

The significance of the moment was not lost on Maura either. While her experience in interpersonal relationships was limited, she had known Jane long enough to understand that her moments of vulnerability were scant and few. Actually, if she really thought about it, one didn't need to know Jane very well at all to realize that because Jane was who she was. She didn't put on airs for sake of company she was in. With Jane Rizzoli what you see is what you get and Maura found that truth to be very reassuring.

She had, on several occasions, taken a moment to try and deconstruct her burgeoning friendship with Jane. On the surface it was so cliché. They were like a female version of the odd couple. But, while they had obvious opposing inclinations, there was a deeper understanding between them that superseded their superficial disparities. It was that understanding that urged Maura to lie next to Jane and wait patiently for her friend to turn the valve and unleash the pressure that had been building inside her since they found the first victims in their case. She knew she couldn't acknowledge it; it would only make Jane more self conscious. Instead she opted to offer Jane common ground in hopes of allaying her fear.

Maura offered, "I used to get really anxious in crowds. My breathing would become erratic and I'd start to feel my throat close up. Common symptoms of a panic attack."

Jane looked over at Maura and noticed the other woman stroking her throat with her fingers. She knew what the doctor was doing; trying to make her at ease with the fact that she was scared shitless. She'd been through the whole psycho-babble-shrink routine after her first encounter with Hoyt. It's what all those head shrinkers do, at least with cops. They try to act like they understand what those damaged men and women in blue been through, but they don't. They never could. But Maura wasn't a shrink, she was her friend, and Jane could see that her admission wasn't offered as a matter of routine. It was a confession and she could see in Maura's eyes that she needed to say it as much as Jane needed to hear it. It was hard for her to imagine Maura in panic mode. Everything about the woman screamed of being in control; from her carefully constructed wardrobe to her precisely chosen words. She wondered what could have caused such a state in her friend.

"Claustrophobic?" Jane questioned.

"Enochlophobic, actually. It specifically refers to the fear of crowds. Claustrophobia is defined as a fear of enclosed spaces without a visible point of exit. Very different."

Jane rolled her eyes and replied, "Right, I always mix those two up. So, this knock-no" Her attempt to recite the word was futile. "-whatever you just said, must have severely hampered your mall visits."

Maura, in a voice reflecting her bemusement at Jane's poor pronunciation and her ignorance over her fashion, objected to Jane's assessment. "You don't buy couture at a mall, Jane."

"Of course you don't, that's what personal shoppers are for!" Jane countered.

Maura closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in mock concentration. "I'm sensing your sarcasm."

"I hope so, because if I shell out anymore we'll be drowning in it." Jane's remark earned her a slap on her thigh from the woman next to her. She feigned an expression of pain and rubbed her thigh where she was hit. Then Jane took a moment to observe the other woman and thought about what she had confessed. She cleared her throat before continuing in a more serious tone. "Was it serious? I mean, I've heard of people staying shut in their houses and then ending up on one of those documentary shows on A&E."

Maura smirked and turned her head to meet Jane's eyes. "No, not like that. I never really had the luxury to indulge my fear. There was always some event to go to, some function..."

Maura's voice trailed off as remembered the afternoons spent drinking tea at the Ritz, 4th of July Celebrations on Martha's Vineyard, an annual charity ball at the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and on and on.

"So, you just dealt with it?" Jane asked.

Maura passed her palms over her thighs to straighten some imaginary wrinkles in the fabric before replying.

"I smiled when I had to and I laughed when appropriate. I wore a mask, which was fitting because no matter what the function it always felt like a masquerade anyway." She paused and closed her eyes briefly as the weight of her confession settled on her. Then she turned to face Jane and found two deep onyx eyes waiting patiently for her to continue. Looking into them, Maura came to the realization of how honest they were. She never had to question how Jane was feeling. It was all there waiting to be explored.

It was beautiful.

Jane was beautiful and Maura was certain that Jane had no idea just how exceptionally beautiful she was right at that moment.

Maura, feeling a little unsettled by her last thought, turned her attention to the ceiling before continuing.

"I figured it out eventually…"

"What?"

"What I was really afraid of. I thought I was afraid of people, but, it wasn't the crowds …it was the pretense. Smiling faces one minute, then snide remarks when someone's back was turned. So much concern about appearance and no real concern over the lies it took to maintain that appearance or the decay they caused."

"Is that why you're so comfy around corpses?"

"Being around them feels more honest than anyone I was around growing up."

"Everybody lies, Maura, whether blue blood or blue collar."

"There's a difference between lies and falsehood, Jane. You can lie to protect someone, to avoid hurting them…but being false, covering up your scars, your insecurities to appear to be more than who you are, so you can make others feel less for who they are..."

Jane could sense the frustration Maura's voice as her voice trailed off. She thought about her words and then looked down at her own hands.

"Some scars are easier to hide than others, I guess." She looked over at Maura and noticed how the other woman's expression turned from frustrated to pained as she looked at her scars. Jane ran her finger tip over the ridges of the scar on the back of her right palm and confessed. "I hate them."

Maura looked up from the scars and took in Jane's profile. She could tell there was more to that statement, but she knew Jane wouldn't offer it without some encouragement.

"As scars go they're not obtrusive, and having one on each hand provides symmetry which is always pleasing to the eye."

The minute the words passed her lips, Maura regretted it. She watched as Jane crossed her arms at her chest and effectively hid her hands from any further appraisal. Maura turned on her side and reached out to grasp Jane's arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I revert to logic whenever I have trouble to expressing what I'm feeling and that doesn't always work in my favor."

"And what are you having trouble expressing?"

"That I hate them too."

Jane shook her head in astonishment. She knew that her bed side manner certainly left something to be desired, but, Maura's attempt at sensitivity was making her look like an emotional guru. "Yeah, well, Hoyt certainly ruined any chance I had at a career as a hand model…"

Maura, now realizing the implication of her words, quickly replied. "Not because of how they look, because I know what they mean to you."

"Really? Well, could you do me a solid and fill me in?"

Maura paused for a moment and Jane anxiously waited the other woman's response. The doctor appeared to be conflicted and that only made her more impatient. While the idea that someone could see past all her defenses straight through to the quick of her frightened her to no end, another part felt that Maura's words might allow her to finally exhale a breath she'd been holding for so long.

"A solid what?" Maura questioned.

Jane felt her eyes bulge and her jaw drop. She stared at the other woman in disbelief and then pushed herself up and off the bed. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Look, just forget it. I must be out of it, because I don't know what I'm doing here, and I don't know why I'm having this conversation with someone who prefers the company of a corpse."

"Jane!" Maura exclaimed. If it weren't so illogical and unproductive, Maura would have slapped her own forehead for not anticipating Jane's frustration with her question. Her lack of knowledge surrounding the use of colloquialisms could not have struck at a worst moment.

Jane looked over and could see Maura's face covered in regret. Despite that, she made her way around the bed and headed for the door. Too much had been said already and she needed to get to her apartment where things were at least familiar, if not safe.

"I need to not be here right now, Maura."

Just before Jane could pass through the door, her exit was thwarted by the vice like grip of Maura Isles' hand on her right wrist.

"They mean you're vulnerable. They mean you could be a victim, too." Maura replied.

At that suggestion, Jane's mind was accosted with images of past victims flashing before her eyes as if she were looking through a kaleidoscope. So many faces, so much death and suffering and they were just a number in her world; a name, a face and a number. That's what they became because they fell to someone else's hand. So many lives full of so many experiences, but, no matter how different each victim, they all ended up in the same place.

Maura waited for Jane to process her words. She knew she was risking a lot by exposing the brunette's wounds and she hoped she hadn't said too much. When Jane turned to face Maura she could see her words had hit home, but, Jane wasn't putting up a wall so she continued, "They mean you could be a face on a wall, a case number."

"A body in a morgue?" Jane asked.

Both women felt a chill run down their spine as they pondered that question. The idea of it really struck a chord with Maura. As strange as it might sound to some, when Maura examined a corpse she was most at peace. For her the morgue was her church and the autopsy was her sacrament, and realizing that made her fairly certain that seeing Jane on her examining table would cause her to lose her religion.

"You're not a victim, Jane." Maura insisted, for her own comfort, as much as Jane's.

"Yeah, but he made me feel like one." Jane's voice cracked as the last word past her lips. She crossed her arms at her chest and clenched her jaw as she tried to suppress the tears that were threatening to fall.

Maura felt her heart constrict at the sight of her friend fighting so hard against her own emotions. Unsure if Jane would welcome it, Maura hesitantly reached out to wipe away the tears that were trailing down Jane's cheeks. When finished, she cupped the brunette's face in her hands.

"You're here. You survived."

Jane closed her eyes at touch of Maura's hand to her face. She wanted to jerk her head away and continue through the door, but she couldn't. It was as though her feet were cemented to the ground. She took in Maura's words and appreciated them for the comfort they were meant to offer, but, they were only words and they couldn't erase the truth.

"But that feeling is in me now and he knows that no matter how far down I bury it, he can dig it up and play with it all he wants."

Maura took her hands away from Jane's face, and moved a step closer before replying "Feeling like a victim and being a victim are two very different things."

"Well, as a medical examiner you would be the one to know the difference." Jane responded.

The fragility of Jane's voice belied the levity of her words. Maura could see what the other woman was trying to do, how she was trying to deflect her true emotions with humor. She took a deep breath before stepping closer to Jane.

"If you were Hoyt's victim I couldn't do this." Maura closed the scant distance between them and enveloped the other woman in her arms. She felt Jane go stiff before she continued. "You're warm, but comfortable…Your temperature is probably between 96 and 99 degrees Fahrenheit. Your respiratory rate is steady, probably between 16 and 18 breaths per minute...maybe a little higher and your pulse is…" Maura brought her hand up to Jane's neck and placed her two fingers to other woman's throat. She felt a beat and it seemed to be accelerating. Maura pulled back to look Jane in the eyes. The minute their eyes met she felt a spike at her finger tips. Before she could comment on it, Jane moved out of her embrace.

"I get it. All systems normal. A complete medical diagnosis won't be necessary, Dr. Isles." Jane exclaimed.

When Maura had pulled her into a hug, Jane felt herself turn into a statue. Then the warmth that came from the other woman's body pierced her skin and she started to melt. There was something different about the embrace; somehow it had made her feel comforted, yet unnerved at the same time. She had felt compelled to return the embrace, and her arms enveloped the smaller woman as if her body had initiated the action before her mind could process its request. It all felt instinctual and familiar which made no sense at all to Jane. When Maura's fingertips touched her pulse point, she drew her head back, and felt her heart jump when her eyes met Maura's. She had immediately pulled away when she recognized in Maura's eyes that the other woman had felt the change in her pulse. Now standing a respectable distance from the doctor, Jane could see that Maura was confused by her actions.

"But, thank you. Really. It means a lot." Jane offered her gratitude in case her abrupt movement might have led the other woman to think she was unappreciative of her support.

Maura, comforted by Jane's words, nodded her head in acceptance. Then she noticed the exhaustion in her friend and ushered her back to the bed.

"Go to bed. You'll be safe and I promise I won't bother you any more tonight, okay?"

Jane moved back on to the bed and under the covers as Maura moved toward the door to leave for her own room. When Maura's last words registered in her mind, Jane replied. "Maura, you don't bother me. You frustrate me sometimes, and occasionally embarrass me, but, you don't bother me."

Maura turned in the doorway to face Jane. Seeing the sincerity in Jane's eyes made her face erupt with a brilliant smile. "Ditto, Detective Rizzoli. Good night."

"Night."

When Maura turned off the light, Jane turned on her side and fiddled with her pillow. She let out a heavy breath while shaking her head as if to clear her mind of all the emotional debris left behind from their heavy discussion. Just as she got comfortable, Maura's voice pierced the silence in her room.

"It's actually so much better if lie you in a supine position, it allows your vertebrae to-"

"MAURA!"

"Right, right. Leaving now."


End file.
